


Sister Golden Hair

by TeekiJane



Series: The Boys of Summer [21]
Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 07:36:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeekiJane/pseuds/TeekiJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff’s been down again for quite a while, but an unexpected visitor gets him out of his funk…by making him mad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sister Golden Hair

_I tried to make it Sunday_  
_But I got so damned depressed_  
_That I set my sights on Monday_  
_And I got myself undressed_  
America, Sister Golden Hair

**Jeff**

When I got home Tuesday I just wanted to go to my room and pull the covers up over my head. Richard had picked me up, and he hadn’t even bothered to attempt conversation with me. Instead he had just turned up NPR and commented on the presidential election, more to the radio than to me. 

But Richard ruined the whole trip by saying two words: family dinner. I sighed and rolled my eyes. It’s not that I don’t love my family—even Richard—but they never just get together and have fun. Everything has to be so stiff and formal. I don’t know how my mom stands it, because she doesn’t really do stiff and formal. The only thing I can say after five of these stinkers is that Pete really does not seem at ease around Mom and Richard. There must be some good gossip related to that that I haven’t heard, but no one’s talking. 

Mom was already home when we arrived, and she was the kitchen making something that smelled like fish. That’s always a little scary because you don’t know what you’re getting. Maybe she’s making fish and it’s therefore a good smell. But maybe she’s not, in which case she’s really fucked something up. 

I opened a cabinet and grabbed a granola bar. I figured maybe I could get away with telling her I had a horrible headache and that light was making me nauseous. But I guess I’ve tried that one just too many times. “Jeff, go change shirts,” she said, looking me over. 

I looked at my t-shirt. “Why?” I whined. 

Mom opened the oven and I could see she was indeed cooking fish. I relaxed a little bit. She gave me a look. “Because your shirt is absolutely filthy and you look you’ve never had a bath in your life.” She shifted her gaze to the stove and frowned at something bubbling over in one of her pots. “Mary Anne and Pete will be here in about half an hour, but Byron said he’d be here any minute now.” 

I was just about to take a bite from the granola bar when she said that. “Wait. Byron’s coming to dinner tonight?” 

Mom made a face. “Didn’t he tell you?” she asked. I shrugged. I hadn’t really talked to Byron since I’d made an ass of myself on Sunday. I wasn’t really worried about apologizing to him, because he’s the most empathetic person I know and I was pretty sure he’d apologize to me before I could even tell him how sorry I was. What’s so backwards about that is that he really didn’t do anything; I got mad at him for being concerned about me. But I did worry about trying to explain myself to him beyond that. There are some things you just can’t understand if you haven’t experienced them and as much as Byron would _want_ to try to relate, he really couldn’t. 

I went upstairs and changed shirts, but after I did so, I stretched out on my bed and was half-way to sleep when the phone rang. Richard had gone outside to water the garden, but I fully expected Mom to answer. Instead, I heard her yell from the bottom of the stairs. “Jeff, can you get that? My hands are covered in mashed potatoes.” 

I rose lazily from my bed and made it to the phone. “Hello?” 

At first I didn’t recognize the voice on the other end of the phone, other than that it was a female and she was whispering. “Jeff?” 

I was completely flummoxed. “Yes?” I said. 

“I believe in fair warning.” 

Something clicked. “Mary Anne? Is that you?” I asked incredulously. 

“Yes. Listen, I don’t have much time. I just picked your sister up at the train station. She’s coming to dinner with Pete and me.” There was a noise on the other end of the line. Someone else was talking to Mary Anne. “I’ll be there in a minute!” she called to the other person, and then returned to the phone. “I don’t know what’s going on with her that she thought surprising our parents would be a good idea, but I do know she’s mad as hell about something. I thought you all should be warned.” 

“Thanks. I’ll tell my mom so she can set the table for seven.” 

There was a slight pause. “I gotta go. She’s coming back out of the bathroom. See you soon.” 

Well. This was certainly turning into an interesting family dinner after all—and it hadn’t even started yet. I headed downstairs slowly, my legs feeling like lead. I got to the bottom of the stairs and could see Byron standing with my mom at the stove, looking at the mystery something that had bubbled over earlier. “You don’t have to worry about me,” he told my mom earnestly, “I like all foods. I’m sure whatever you serve will be just fine.” She smiled at him and suddenly I saw exactly what Haley was complaining about one day. Byron just knows exactly what to say to put parents at ease and make a good impression. It’s almost like schmoozing, only a lot less smarmy because he actually legitimately means what he says. I noticed he had dressed up; he was wearing a pair of black pants with his shirt buttoned and tucked in, and he’d even put on a tie. 

I walked over to join them even though I was half filled with dread. “It’s true,” I said to my mom, “He’ll eat just about anything.” 

Mom made a face at me and I realized that, even though I’d put on a fresh shirt fifteen minutes before, it was all wrinkled from my dozing. By smiled at me tentatively. “Hey, Jeff,” he said. I walked by him and put a hand on his shoulder, trying to let him know that everything was alright. I think he got the message because he smiled more genuinely. 

I took a look into the mystery pot and tried to figure out what exactly was cooking in it. It was kind of brown and, although it smelled good, it looked like shit. “What is that?” I asked. 

“Lentils.” Mom tipped her mashed potatoes into a serving bowl. “I think they’re a little overcooked, but they should still taste good. I made mashed potatoes for those who are scared of lentils.” She put a serving spoon into the bowl and then turned back to me. “Jeff, didn’t I ask you to put on a clean shirt?” 

I gestured toward my middle. “I _did_ put on a clean shirt.” 

“Well, put on one that looks like it’s seen an iron at some point, okay?” 

I turned to Byron. “Come upstairs with me?” Mom gave me a murderous look. “Mom. Seriously. I’m just going to change shirts, so we’ll be up there for less than five minutes. I’ll even leave the door open.” She shrugged, acquiescing, although she didn’t look thrilled about it. I grabbed By’s hand and we started toward the stairs before I remembered why I had come down in the first place. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Mary Anne just called. She said Dawn’s in town and she’s coming to dinner.” 

Mom stopped in her tracks. “I’m her mother, I’m the one cooking, and I’m the last one to know.” 

“Not the last one,” I corrected, “because no one’s told Richard yet.” Mom rolled her eyes. “Besides, I honestly think Dawn just called Mary Anne a short time ago, because you know she would have called us as soon as she found out.” I walked up the stairs, Byron right on my heels. 

We got to my room and he stood in front of the open door and did the predictable thing. “Jeff, I am _so_ sorry about Sunday.” 

I took his hand again. “Well, I’m sorry for making you feel sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m also sorry for how I’ve been acting recently.” I kissed his knuckle and let his hand go. I went to unbutton my shirt, but to my surprise, he did it for me. 

Byron took my shirt off and hung it on the back of my chair. “You have no idea how worried I’ve been about you,” he said. 

I nodded at him. “Actually, I probably do have some idea,” I said. He looked confused. “I know how much you worry about things in general. And considering that _I’m_ worried about me, I can get a picture of how you feel.” I sat heavily on the bed. 

By moved to my closet and looked inside. He pulled out a shirt and held it out to me. I shrugged a ‘whatever,’ at him. “What’s bothering you?” he asked, coming over toward the bed with the shirt. 

“Everything,” I said. He handed me the shirt and I put it on. He sat down beside me and put an arm around my middle as I buttoned the last few buttons. “Every little movement I make hurts. It takes a lot of effort just to get out of bed in the morning, or eat something, or whatever.” 

He looked alarmed. “Have you been to see a doctor?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” I said quietly. Byron beckoned for me to go on. “It’s not a physical thing, By. It’s mental. The shrink’s fighting with my medication. Get too big of a dose and I’ll be a zombie. Not enough, and I’m crazy.” 

He looked at me like he was seeing me through new eyes. “I hope this doesn’t come out wrong, but which side are you on now?” 

I actually smiled. “The crazy side, of course. I haven’t had any cravings for brains.” 

He grinned. “Sounds like you’re starting to feel a bit better,” he observed. 

“Yeah. They upped my dose again last week and I think it’s starting to kick in. I still have trouble getting going, and all I really want to do is sleep, but I do feel better than I did even on Sunday.” He squeezed me toward him and I decided to spill my guts a bit more. “I don’t know how I’ll feel each day when I wake up in the morning. Some days are like these when I just can’t get up and get excited about life. Other days, I just have way too much energy and I can’t even fall asleep. I go back and forth.” 

I was going to go on, but Mom came to the bottom of the stairs. “You must have that shirt on by now. C’mon down.” 

Byron stood up and moved to leave. I stopped him and planted a kiss on his lips. He looked surprised. “Thanks,” I said as I brushed past him. 

He stood in the doorway, still a little shocked, as I walked to the stairs. “For what?” 

“For being your awesome self.” 

He gave a half grin. “I think you’re pretty awesome, too.” 

***

I won’t bore you with the small talk we had while we waited for my sisters to show up. I had half expected Richard to completely grill Byron until he looked like he’d been barbequed, but he was a lot nicer than I expected. He asked about Duke and the biomedical engineering program, and he was rightfully impressed to hear what a good student By is. After that, he started talking about the elections again, and Byron was actually able to hold his own in the conversation. It was pretty apparent right from the start that they weren’t going to be voting for the same candidates, but in no way did the conversation become heated or ugly because of it. 

The only time I really participated in that conversation was when Richard turned to me and asked me what issues were the deciding factors for me. I gave him a blank look and Mom piped up. “Oh, Jeff’s more like me,” she said whimsically, “I always look at the paper the weekend before the election, when they put that big graph of where everyone stands on each issue, and then I make up my mind.” 

I thought Richard would have a few stern words about that, and I know Byron thought so too, because he reached for my hand. Instead Richard just laughed. “What am I going to do with you two?” he asked rhetorically. 

I was saved from more political debate by the door opening. “Hello!” Mary Anne called as she entered, holding the door behind her. Next came Pete, loaded down with a suitcase and a casserole dish, and then finally _she_ came in. 

I hadn’t seen Dawn in over a year. She goes to school just an hour away from home, but she’d spent the last year somewhere in South America. She’d left in May of 2003 and was scheduled to come home around the same time this year, but she hadn’t made it to Dad’s house in time for my graduation. She had her long blonde hair pulled back into a thick braid down her back, and she was dressed like a bohemian—a long flowy skirt and a peasant blouse. One look and you could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra. She’d gotten more piercings—there were five in one ear, three in the other and one in her eyebrow—and I thought I saw a tattoo on her ankle, peeking out from under her skirt. 

The four of us in the living room stood up in greeting. Mom went straight over to hug Dawn, who accepted gratefully. Richard took the suitcase off Pete and set it at the bottom of the stairs, while Pete took the dish—which appeared to contain dessert—over to the fridge. Mary Anne moved into the kitchen, exclaiming that everything smelled delicious. The five of them were all talking noisily, but Byron and I hung back, both feeling awkward, although for different reasons. 

After all the ‘we’re here’ chatter subsided, Dawn took a look around and her eyes landed on me. “Hey, Jeff,” she said casually, much like By had earlier, as if she’d just seen me earlier in the week. She stepped over and gave me a quick hug. “I didn’t know you were here. In town for a short time, or you forced to spend the whole summer here?” 

I found myself getting a little worked up; my location wasn’t the only thing she didn’t know about me. We hadn’t even spoken since Christmas, and whole hell of a lot had gone on in the past seven months. “Spending the whole summer here by choice,” was all I said. 

She looked at me a little oddly, and on one level, I didn’t blame her. I’d thrown a huge fit just before she’d left last summer about coming to Connecticut. I was supposed to spend six weeks here, but I’d dug in my heels and managed to get it down to two. Mom had planned them to coincide with Mary Anne’s wedding. She was sliding up onto her one year anniversary now. Dawn had missed the whole thing. 

Dawn shifted her gaze around the room and she spotted Byron, who had subconsciously backed out of the line of conversation. She eyed him critically for a moment. “I know you’re a Pike,” she said, pointing at him, “but you’ll have to forgive me if I can’t remember which one.” 

Mom raised her eyebrows and caught my eye. I shook my head at her and I know she got the message. Dawn had no idea I’d been dating By or that I was interested in guys at all. By’s eyebrows knitted together as he realized the same thing. “Byron,” was all he said, but he sounded defeated—like me not telling my sister about _us_ meant that I really didn’t care about our relationship, which couldn’t be further from the truth. 

I spoke up. “It’s family dinner night,” I told Dawn. 

She turned to me, looking confused. “Yeah?” she said. 

“Yeah. You remember how that works. I know you do because the last time the two of us were here together, we got to see the very first time Pete was invited to family dinner.” Pete smiled for a moment and drew Mary Anne close to him with one arm. She smiled back at him and wiggled free. I continued. “And tonight, you and Mary Anne get to be here for the first time Byron is invited to family dinner.” I reached out for his hand. He hesitated for a moment before giving it to me. He generally doesn’t have a problem with that kind of PDA, but this was my family we were with. It’s a little different. 

Dawn looked surprised. “What about that girl you were dating back in Palo City?” she asked. 

“Risa? You got that right. We _were_ dating. I haven’t been with her since last year.” 

Dawn pursed her lips and looked like she wanted to go on, but everyone was starting to feel uncomfortable. Pete had busied himself by looking at the titles on the bookshelves. Mom was nervously pulling on her bracelet, her eyes darting back and forth between Dawn and me. Richard had gone to scoop the lentils into a serving bowl and take the fish out of the oven. Mary Anne was biting her lip and looking upset. I was getting more and more irritated with every passing second. And By, still holding my hand, was looking down at the floor. I could tell he felt worst of all—not only awkward for witnessing the argument, like everyone else, but just feeling like he didn’t belong at all. 

Mom finally put a stop to my sister’s chatter. “Let’s not give the boys the third degree, now,” she said to Dawn. “Did your father interrogate every guy you ever brought home?” Dawn settled down and looked less disgruntled. 

I, on the other hand, was not any more relaxed. “No, because she didn’t bring most of them home. I think that the back of her car was more her style.” 

Dawn made a hideous face and I was about to go on when Byron tugged my hand. “Jeff,” he said in a quiet voice that I recognized all too well. I shut my mouth and eyes and scrunched up my whole face for a moment and then let it all go. I turned to him and he smiled. “Thank you,” he said, equally quietly, because he knew I was going to hold my tongue, at least temporarily. I made no promises for how long, however. 

Richard saved the day by making a pronouncement. “Dinner’s ready,” he said. 

***

If I thought our usual family dinner for five was awkward and uncomfortable, I was very much mistaken. I guess it’s like how spraining your ankle hurts and you feel like you’re in agony…until you break your arm a short time later and realize how mild the ankle was in comparison. 

I can’t pinpoint any one culprit for why everything was so difficult, although most of our nerves came from one source. Mary Anne was cautious because she and Dawn had a fight eons ago—that last summer I had mentioned, when they were about sixteen—over something ridiculous, but Dawn had held a grudge and the two of them never really got a chance to make up because of that. I was riled over Dawn breezing in here after more than half a year, trying to get mad at me for not telling her stuff. Mom and Richard were trying to keep the peace—which wouldn’t have been necessary if everyone else hadn’t been on edge. Byron was so busy trying to make a good impression that he was very formal and nervous. He kept dropping utensils. And Pete was just…Pete. He’s a really nice guy, but there’s definitely something about him that Richard doesn’t like. I suspect that at least part of it is the fact that no man would ever be good enough for Mary Anne in his eyes. 

Conversation at the table was even worse than before Dawn had arrived. Pete’s been working at one of Pop-pop’s banks—he works there part time during the school year and full time during the summer—and was explaining something to Mom and Richard about their mortgage. Then Mary Anne told us a story about her little goddaughter—her friend’s daughter Harper—and how she wants a puppy or a baby sister for Christmas this year. Mom explained about a client she had whose house hadn’t been updated since the fifties and how much work that was going to be. After that there was a lull in the conversation and Mom turned to Dawn. “Tell us about Peru,” she said. 

Dawn seemed bored at the suggestion. “What’s to tell?” she asked. 

Mom looked annoyed. “What kinds of classes did you take there? How’s your Spanish now? Did you go on any trips? Make any good friends? Meet any special guys?” 

Dawn waved all that off. “It was fine. I had a good time.” 

If looks could kill, Dawn would have been dead by then. Mom looked at Richard, who shrugged at her. “You spent your whole junior year abroad, and all you can say is, ‘I had a good time’?” It was Dawn’s turn to shrug. 

Richard could see that this conversation was not going well. “So Jeff, what classes are you taking in the fall?” he asked. 

I swallowed a mouthful of lentils (which, despite their appearance, were pretty good.) “I’m taking math and composition and poli sci. I think I’m also taking biology and biology lab. There’s one more class but I can’t remember it.” I had called an advisor at the community college campus by my house, and he’d suggested taking all of the prerequisites—classes that would transfer into any state school—for starters, since I had no idea what the hell I wanted to study. 

Richard nodded approvingly. “Getting the basics out of the way first. Smart move.” 

Dawn looked over at me. “Where are you headed?” she asked. 

I shifted uncomfortably. When she’d left, I’d been leaning on a couple of campuses of California State University —ones far enough away that my dad had to call before he could drop in for a visit, but close enough that he’d still pick me up if necessary. My diagnosis had changed that. I’d been accepted at both schools, but Dad and I had decided that it was better that I stay at home for at least a year. “Nowhere special,” I commented. 

Mom kind of deflected the question. “Jeff’s decided to start off at the community college, since he hasn’t chosen a major yet.” 

After that we went back to our same old boring family dinner topics: Richard mentioned a case; Mary Anne talked about her job as a receptionist; Pete and Richard discussed how Pete needed a new car, since, come fall, he and Mary Anne wouldn’t be able to share one anymore. I turned to look at Byron. It had been a few minutes since he’d dropped his fork, and no one had asked him any embarrassing questions. He was a lot more at ease. He caught me looking at him and smiled. He’d cleared his plate—he’d even had a helping of lentils—and he was following the conversation intently. I reached over and grabbed his hand under the table, a move no one else could see. 

When we finished eating, Byron was the first person to offer to help clear the table. I dutifully followed, carrying my dishes. Mary Anne started serving up dessert—a banana split pie she said was absolutely delicious. She swore up and down she’d made it with honey and only a little bit of processed sugar, but I probably would have eaten some even if she said she’d added extra sugar to it. It looked and smelled as good as she said it was. 

Dawn walked away from where the rest of us were working in the kitchen and grabbed her bag. “I’m going to skip dessert,” she said. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.” 

Mary Anne, who’s usually the last person to comment on things like that, clucked her tongue. “I know she’s tired,” she said, a little annoyed, “but she could have at least offered to help clean up.” 

Pete looked a bit annoyed himself, but he shook his head. “I don’t think it’s something worth fighting over,” he commented. 

“I know,” Mary Anne agreed, “but I just wish I knew what was going on in her mind.” 

“Don’t we all,” Mom added. 

I pulled Byron out of the conversation. “I’m going to the bathroom,” I told him. I looked around to make sure no one else was watching and gave him a quick kiss. 

He blushed anyway. “Hurry. That’s where I was just about to go.” 

I quickly did my business and was about to head downstairs, but Dawn blocked the hallway so that I had to face her. I had nowhere to hide. “So,” she began, quietly enough that I guessed she was asking for information and not trying to start a fight, “How long have you been dating Byron?” 

“Since spring break.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “I guess that’s the reason you wanted to come spend the summer here, then,” she said. 

“Part of the reason,” I agreed. “The biggest part.” 

Dawn looked intense. “Why didn’t you tell me you were gay?” she asked. “Did you think I couldn’t handle it?” She wiped a few hairs that had gotten out of her braid out of her face. “Why am I the last to know?” 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” I said seriously. Now she just seemed confused. “Have you stopped by Dad’s since you’ve been home?” I asked. 

“Yeees,” she said slowly, not sure where this was going. 

“And did he mention me at all?” She shook her head. “Look, Dawn, I’m not trying to keep secrets from you at all. It’s just…when was the last time we spoke? Christmas. You haven’t sent so much as an email or postcard since then. It’s a little hard to tell you stuff when I’m just figuring things out myself and you’re nowhere to be found.” 

I couldn’t read Dawn’s face completely after that. She looked a little annoyed, but there was more. Did I see a hint of guilt in her expression? Whatever it was, it crossed her face briefly and then was gone. “Well, I’m here right now. Tell me all these things you’ve spent the last seven months ‘figuring out.’” 

I turned away from her for a second. She was completely wearing me out, and all I could think about was how I wanted to climb into bed and sleep until morning. “Do you know where I was on your twenty-first birthday?” I finally asked as I turned back to her. Now I could read her expression clearly; she was wondering what that had to do with anything. She shook her head. “I was on the fourth floor of the hospital.” That obviously had no meaning for her. “The locked unit? The psych ward? The loony bin?” 

She took a step back toward the stairs. “Jeff…” she started, but trailed off. I wheeled around and went into my room, intent upon slamming the door in her face, but she was too quick for me. She was in the doorway before I could even grab the door handle. I stood in front of my bed, feeling even more cornered than I had in the hall. I fully expected my fight or flight reflex to kick in at any moment. “What the hell are you talking about?” Dawn asked me. 

I looked at her wearily. I was tired of telling this story, so I gave her the shortened version. “That’s what they do with you when you threaten suicide,” I explained. 

She took a step back once again, although she was still blocking my only escape route. Her eyes were huge; I’d shocked her. “I don’t even know who you are any more,” she said, not angrily like I’d expected, but sadly, as if she were somehow to blame. 

That didn’t do anything to diffuse my anger. “You don’t know who I am?” I was shouting by this point, but I didn’t care. “I’ll tell you who I am. I’m Jeff Schafer, the bipolar bisexual. And if you have a problem with that, you have a problem with me.” I looked at her defiantly, as if willing her to have a problem with me. 

Dawn turned quiet. “I don’t have a problem with that,” she said, almost whispering. 

“Yeah? Well, that makes one of us.” I flopped down face first on my bed. 

A little time passed without conversation. I heard Dawn move into my room and sit down in my chair. I finally looked up at her and she was staring at me. “Tell me something,” she said finally. “Something about your life now. Maybe I’ll understand you better.” 

I sighed. “What kind of something?” 

Dawn shrugged. “I dunno. Anything. I have a feeling that there are tons of things you could say that I don’t know.” 

I watched her for a moment before I turned away. “For a long time, I had trouble getting out of bed in the morning. Even when I was manic, I just felt so down, like my life had no purpose.” I sat up, still not looking at her. “I don’t feel that as much these days, just every now and then.” 

She nodded. “Is the medication helping?” she asked. 

“Some, but that’s not the real reason I feel better. The real reason is right downstairs.” Dawn was puzzled, so I went on. “Ever since By and I got together, I’ve just felt like more pieces of my life have clicked into place. He doesn’t go around pushing me to define myself the way everyone else in the universe does. He wants me to be everything I can be, but on my own terms and in my own way. I feel like we make each other better people.” 

Dawn smiled. “Sounds like this is a pretty serious thing you’ve got going there,” she observed. 

I turned to look at her head on for the first time since I’d started talking to her, rather than yelling at her. “It is. I love that boy. I really do.” 

“You do?” It wasn’t Dawn who spoke, but another figure, posing in the doorway. He was short and slouchy and had long shaggy hair and beautiful blue eyes. I loved every little bit of him. 

I nodded at Byron and he blushed just a little. His eyes were shining. “I’ve wanted to tell you that for weeks,” I said after a moment. “Ever since…you know…” Dawn, who was still sitting on my chair, raised her eyebrows. I ignored her and went on. “But the time was never right.” 

He looked at me seriously, but I could see that I’d made him happy. The shiny eyes were always a dead giveaway. He twiddled his thumbs for a moment, looking at them, and then turned back toward me. “I know,” he said. “Remember on Sunday when I said I’d never give up on you?” 

Dawn stood up. “You two don’t need me for this conversation,” she said. Byron moved out of the way for her, and she turned back to me. “Come talk to me later, if you feel up to it,” she said. I nodded. She put one hand on Byron’s shoulder and smiled at him. “Nice seeing you again, Byron. Take good care of my brother.” 

He smiled back. “I intend to,” was all he replied. She strolled past him and out the door. He turned back to me. “I wanted to tell you then. But the others were just there looking at us, and it’s not that I lost my nerve. I just…” 

“You just knew something was going on with Adam and Tiffany and, for whatever reason, you decided not to say it.” By looked surprised that I had noticed all that. “Hey, I might have been closer to a zombie on Sunday, but I did catch some of what was going on.” He grinned. “Well, we’re alone right now, at least until Richard figures out we’re up here together. Why don’t you say it now?” 

I’d put him on the spot and for a moment he froze. Then, with a backwards glance out the door to make sure no one would catch us, he came over to the bed. He knelt down next to it, just a little lower than I was, and spoke in a whisper. “I love you,” he said. 

I took his hands. “I love you, too.” I leaned over and kissed him. I had to resist the urge to wrap my arms around him and pull him close. Heck, despite how tired I felt, I wouldn’t have minded ripping his clothes off and climbing into bed with him…if we’d been alone. 

I stood up and offered him my hands again. He took them and I pulled him up. “Dessert?” I asked. 

He chuckled. “Always. You know that.” I wrapped one arm around his waist and we started toward the hallway. “You know what?” he said. I just looked at him, although I was smiling for the first time I could remember in a while. “We’re even now. Back in Maine, you overheard me arguing with my brother while you were in the bathroom. Just now, I overheard you arguing with your sister while I was in the bathroom.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek. “The bipolar bisexual, huh?” 

“Yeah, well,” I began, but I didn’t need to finish that. He put his head on the hollow between my shoulder and neck, sideways, and exhaled deeply. I knew I didn’t have to explain myself. Byron loved me just the way I was. 

We went downstairs to devour some banana split pie, my arm still around his waist.

**Author's Note:**

> Coming soon in _The Boys of Summer_ :  
> Tiffany has a talk with the one person she knows who truly understands.  
> Mary Anne tries to bribe Jeff…with candy!  
> Adam just can’t believe his ears once again.
> 
>  
> 
> Hey readers…This Thanksgiving (when I am writing this), I am thankful that I actually have anyone reading my work at all. _The Boys of Summer_ is firming up to be somewhere around 32 stories. Of course, I had 30 earlier this week until I came up with two more things I just had to add in. (Including a story with Jeff, Haley and Vanessa hanging out together that should be pretty funny.) I may have to add a few more. Stay tuned and thanks again.


End file.
